


Slip of the Tongue

by Linsky



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Outing, First Time, Locker Room Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 14:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linsky/pseuds/Linsky
Summary: “Wait, so you’vealltried it?” Jonny asks.





	Slip of the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> A little scrap of something I wrote this afternoon while procrastinating on at least two other writing projects. I recognize that the title might lead you to expect certain things that are not in this fic, and I apologize for any disappointment caused. Believe me when I say I am more disappointed in myself.
> 
> [Tumblr](https://linskywords.tumblr.com/), where I would have posted this if it wouldn’t have been taken down tomorrow!

“Wait, so you’ve _all_ tried it?” Jonny asks.

It’s the first thing he’s said in the conversation they’ve all been having in the locker room the past few minutes. Patrick actually thought he’d left, because Jonny always has an opinion to share in locker-room conversation—unless it’s about sex, in which case he tends to make himself scarce. But no, here he is, helmet marks on his face and hair sticking up from his post-practice shower, finally speaking up.

“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” Sharpy drawls, leaning back against a stall.

“No, it’s just—not what I would have expected,” Jonny says.

Seabs cracks a grin. “Take it you haven’t done it, then, Jonny-boy?”

“No, I—I have. A few times.” His face is almost definitely pinker than it was a couple minutes ago. It’s hilarious that Jonny gets this embarrassed about sex.

“So give us some credit,” Bicks says. “You think you’re the only one with game around here?”

“Yeah, no, of course not.” Jonny rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “I just…I don’t know. I didn’t know so many of you were into guys.”

There’s a long, long silence, like the whole room has stopped breathing. Patrick feels like his eyes are going to bug out of his head.

“With girls, Tazer,” Sharpy says finally, his face working so that Patrick can’t actually tell which expressions he’s trying to suppress. “We’ve all tried anal with _girls._ ”

“…Oh,” Jonny says, face going fire-engine red.

***

There’s less chirping about it than Patrick would expect. He guesses no one’s really sure how to react to their newly minted captain accidentally outing himself in the locker room.

Patrick keeps feeling like he should bring it up, though. He’s not gonna, because that would be weird. But—when the two of them are hanging out, on the road or in one of their condos or just at the rink or whatever, he just keeps thinking about it. It feels like there’s this thing hanging between them, and it’s almost weirder not to say anything.

Maybe Sharpy can tell, because he corners Patrick a week or so after the thing. “Peeks,” Sharpy says ominously, separating him from the herd in the way he only does when he’s acting on the A on his chest.

“I haven’t done anything,” Patrick says immediately. It’s true: he hasn’t done anything dumb in weeks now.

Sharpy gives him a look like he doubts that. “I just wanted to talk to you about Tazer.”

“What about him?”

“Just wanted to make sure you weren’t planning to give him a hard time,” Sharpy says. “It’s gotta be tough, what he’s going through, and we’re not here to make it harder, okay?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t,” Patrick says.

“Not saying you would,” Sharpy says easily. “Just letting you know we won’t stand for anyone being a dick in the room.”

“Obviously,” Patrick says, vaguely insulted.

After that he figures he’d really better not say anything. But it keeps sticking in his mind: Jonny’s face when he admitted to having done it. Like, what was he thinking about? Would he have said something eventually, if it hadn’t come up? Was there one guy, or, like, a bunch of them? He has a lot of questions, basically, and none of them are going away.

Patrick makes it like two more weeks before he says something. It’s when they’re in a hotel room in Dallas, chilling before a team dinner, and Jonny’s being really distracting, tapping at his phone so that Patrick keeps noticing even with his earbuds in. And Patrick’s palms are sweating, for some reason, and it’s weird, and finally he gives up and pulls his earbuds out and says, “So, how recently did you do the thing?”

Jonny looks over, startled. “Excuse me?”

Patrick can’t believe he just said that. His sisters are right: he does have no impulse control. “The thing you said in the locker room, about the guys. Was it, like, a long time ago, or…”

Jonny definitely knows what he’s talking about now. His face is all red. “Um, no. It wasn’t, like. It wasn’t that long ago.”

“Oh.” That makes it way weirder, somehow, in a way that makes Patrick need to breathe a little harder. “While you were in the league?”

“Um. Yes.” Jonny’s not making eye contact with him.

“Wow.” Patrick feels like there were more questions he wanted to ask, but it’s kind of hard to focus. His heart it beating really fast. “Was it ’cause you aren’t into girls?”

“What? No.”

“So why—”

“Why do you care?” Jonny asks, voice sharp. “It’s none of your fucking business.”

Patrick sits up a little more at that, spurred by a jolt of adrenaline. “Hey, no, come on, I just want to know.”

“You wanna know, huh?” Jonny’s sitting up now, too, and there’s a challenging glint in his eyes. “Do you really?” he asks, voice ugly. “You want to hear what it was like to have some guy’s dick in my ass, a thick cock spearing me open, making me spread my legs like a slut—”

Patrick’s gut has turned to water, everything loose and wobbly and hot. “…Yes,” he hears himself croak, and Jonny’s eyes go wide and shocked.

“Get the fuck over here, then,” he says, and Patrick scrambles off the bed, tripping on his own blankets so badly that Jonny ends up meeting him halfway and pressing him back onto his own bed.

Patrick isn’t really sure he wants it until Jonny’s weight is settled over him, solid muscle making everything strange and new, and then he opens his mouth on a cry that Jonny swallows with his own. After that it’s hard to keep track of anything except how much he wants. Patrick feels like he’s being broken open, like maybe he’s been hungry for a really long time and he’s only realizing it now that he’s finally getting it. He grabs for it as much as possible, hands skidding along Jonny’s back and down to—oh fuck, his ass, perfect and round and firm and making Jonny moan against his throat.

“Never thought you’d want it,” Jonny says, scrabbling at Patrick t-shirt and working his way down to suck on the skin of his stomach. “Wanted to say something so many times, but I didn’t know—” And Patrick didn’t know either either, never guessed it would feel like this to have Jonny’s hands and lips and tongue on him, taking him apart.

Jonny pushes himself up a little and looks at Patrick with crazed eyes. “Can I fuck you?” he asks. “I’ve only done it once before, but I’ve thought about—I really want—”

“Yes, yes,” Patrick pants, and opens himself up to it: to Jonny’s hands hot on his skin as he slides down his pants, to Jonny’s fingers slick and strange inside of him, to the wide dizzying stretch of Jonny’s cock as he pushes in, and in, and in.


End file.
